


unearthed

by litspinels



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:27:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21792235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/litspinels/pseuds/litspinels
Summary: If you've been following me since the beginning you'd have known that I deleted my work some time ago (dark times), and in my haste to delete I forgot to double-check my back-ups. My raw file was not decrypted when I moved them out of my old laptop, hence, I could no longer recover I would say... 90% of my short stories and also discovered that lot of my chaptered but completed work did not even have backups. I managed to recover some via wbm, but alas, you don't know what you've truly lost till they're gone.Here are some of them, and I gotta say, reading back on some of these made me remember that I was truly too hard on myself back then. I still found myself nitpicking but hey these were old and hopefully I have improved in some way so I present these to you unedited, give me a pass for any mistakes, eh?I realized that sometimes you gotta believe it when people give you compliments, and while I still suck at that just please know I do appreciate it when people tell me they like my work. I have just always been a ridiculously critical person, and I don't think I'll ever stop measuring myself against my own high af standards. I'll never be satisfied, but at least I can be a little bit proud of what I've written. I still ask that you don't comment on my fics, I just prefer it that way. But please know that if you have sent an ask my way on tumblr, or chatted with me in the message box, I want you to know that I've never forgotten how in some way you have helped chased the demons out of my head, and for that I am forever grateful.
Relationships: Kogami Shinya/Tsunemori Akane
Comments: 2
Kudos: 112





	1. Runaways

**Author's Note:**

> If you've been following me since the beginning you'd have known that I deleted my work some time ago (dark times), and in my haste to delete I forgot to double-check my back-ups. My raw file was not decrypted when I moved them out of my old laptop, hence, I could no longer recover I would say... 90% of my short stories and also discovered that lot of my chaptered but completed work did not even have backups. I managed to recover some via wbm, but alas, you don't know what you've truly lost till they're gone. 
> 
> Here are some of them, and I gotta say, reading back on some of these made me remember that I was truly too hard on myself back then. I still found myself nitpicking but hey these were old and hopefully I have improved in some way so I present these to you unedited, give me a pass for any mistakes, eh?
> 
> I realized that sometimes you gotta believe it when people give you compliments, and while I still suck at that just please know I do appreciate it when people tell me they like my work. I have just always been a ridiculously critical person, and I don't think I'll ever stop measuring myself against my own high af standards. I'll never be satisfied, but at least I can be a little bit proud of what I've written. I still ask that you don't comment on my fics, I just prefer it that way. But please know that if you have sent an ask my way on tumblr, or chatted with me in the message box, I want you to know that I've never forgotten how in some way you have helped chased the demons out of my head, and for that I am forever grateful.

“Here–” he spoke mid-way, taking off his jacket and offering it with an outstretched hand. Her first instinct was to decline, and she felt like he saw that coming and retracted his arm, opting to put the jacket on her before she could say another word. His touch was light; warm hands smoothing over the creases on her shoulders before one hand rested on her neck.

“You okay?”

She let out an involuntary shiver, though she wasn’t entirely sure it was because of the cold. “Yeah.”

Her reply was drowned by the sound of the rain pelting on the roof. Soon they would hear water dripping down one portion of the ceiling as they settled for the corner of the small room. Only when her back touched his chest did she realize how cold it really was; she snuggled in his arms and sighed.

“Comfortable?”

“Hmm.”

Her eyes opened once more, adjusting to the moonlit room. It was bright enough to make out the table just a few steps from where they sat; drawers opened like they’ve been searched, nothing left of what used to be on it except for what looked like an old picture frame. Whatever left standing– the coat rack, the small cabinet, the broken chair– were littered with cobwebs and dust. 

“So where are we?” she asked, tilting her head. He looked down suddenly, as if she had interrupted his deep thoughts.

With a warm gaze he replied, “South of the country. Once we get to sea it will be a lot longer than that.”

She nodded, shifting in his arms so that she faced him. “I’ve never really traveled this far outside the city before. Never realized how beautiful our country is.”

He remained silent a couple of moments, just staring into her eyes while he brought one hand up to caress her cheek. “Do you regret coming with me?”

She blinked twice, not sure she understood. “What?”

“I’m taking you away, you know… From here.”

Smiling, she leaned into his touch and held his hand. “I know. You didn’t exactly force me to come with you.”

His gaze softened as he pulled her closer. “I’m glad I didn’t have to. You’re not exactly going somewhere more advanced–”

“I can live.”

“And it’s really hot out there, though there’s times in the year when it rains non-stop.”

“Sounds good,” she smiled, resting her head on his chest.

“No snow.”

“I know. I’ve been there, remember?”

He chuckled, making her body shake with his. “Y-yeah. I remember.”

Slowly, she wrapped her arms around him, breathing deeply the scent of him– comforting and pleasant, someone alive and real and warm. She felt his head drop, resting his chin on the crown of her head while tightening his embrace.

“It’s quite nice there. I have a small house, and I teach a little bit at the school in the next town.”

“Hm-mm.”

“Finally got a little bit of peace, you know. There’s still fighting on some places, and we go there to help as much as we can, but I feel like I’m actually living the kind of life for a guy my age.“

It was her turn to laugh, leaning back to gaze at him, who in turn was avoiding her eyes. “You don’t look so old to me,” she teased, pulling herself up to kiss his cheek. 

“I didn’t say I was old.”

“Oh, but you  _ are _ .”

He was beginning to wonder when was the first time he fell for that light, that twinkle in her eye. “I don’t have a lot to offer you.”

“I don’t need a lot.”

She was that much closer now, that the dimness of the room wasn’t enough to cast shadows beneath her eyes. Always, she was simple, and true.

_ I hope I can make you happy, Akane. _

In that moment when their lips touched, all the coldness in the room had seeped out, leaving them in each other’s warmth. They kissed, not like their first time when they didn’t know what they were doing, didn’t know where it would lead. They kissed in honesty, caged in each other’s arms, chest to chest, exchanging breaths and passionate feelings– the long wait, the painful struggles, the people they were supposed to be didn’t matter anymore. 

They separated, though not quite. Their faces, their lips never far from each other to kiss again, more softly this time, before parting and falling back to where they were, still holding each other.

Running his hand up and down her arm, he turned his gaze to the window at the other end of the room.

The rain had stopped.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the chapters won't have titles... At some point I used to give them titles but I only did so when I had to make a fic directory

He watched her breathe, let his hand enclose hers and his arm rest on her side, her back flush against his chest. The sunlight seeps through her room and reminds him all at once where they were; what they did…

Intimacy was unspeakable; undefined to the likes of him. Never had there been anyone close enough, to see with clear eyes; not one he would tell his secrets to; not a single person he was comfortable to bare himself, to his most ugly, to his most vulnerable. He was honest, that much was true. But people figured him out. He held everyone at arms’ length; enough that he could protect when required, share a little wisdom if accepted. Everything stopped there. Intimacy did not exist for him.

But he met her, naive and idealistic, full of hope. It was like looking at himself in the mirror from when he was an Inspector. He resented the light in her eyes because it had asked so much of him, and before the week ended he was already proud to be working under her while she cried and he almost broke down thinking, and remembering; he was not done yet.

She gave him free reign, he took full advantage. He had had enough of being an obedient dog and he wanted to believe in the things that he used to; wanted to feel like his work was worthwhile for once. To protect someone, anyone, even without being acknowledged. He was brought back to life, doing what he did best.

In the end he had failed her.

He did not feel, nor did he care beyond what he had set out to do. And when it was done and he felt nothing but exhaustion, when the darkness did not leave the small room he had found abandoned, when the soles of his feet ached and the back of his neck stiffened from looking over his shoulder, he remembered her.

He made an effort to call, to hear her voice for the last time. Though his news was grim, her voice shined bright through the receiver, filled with hope he could never comprehend. By the end of the call he had believed as much as she; a weight was lifted from his chest. In time, he will believe in more than just her. In time, he will be what she believed in.


	3. one morning

She likes his arm over her waist, heavy and hot in the morning, telling her she wasn’t going anywhere without him knowing. Rarely had she opened her eyes and not found his fingers resting casually above her breast, or his nose tickling the back of her neck; the slightest movement would break his slumber and on good days he would pull her closer and sniff her hair, or turn her so that she faced him before kissing her eyes close, incoherent mumbles of go back to bed or five more minutes– coming from either him or her.

He kisses her shoulder, let his lips stay on her skin while she eyes his reflection and brushes her teeth. His hands reach beneath her top, caressing her stomach and playfully tugging the seams of her panties, eyes closed and leaning on her like he’s not heavy. She wakes him up with a slight push of her butt; it works on most days and prompts him to reach for his own tooth brush– on other days they end up doing things they’ve done the night before, taking longer than usual in the shower and blaming each other when they arrive late.

On weekends they have a walk at the park, eating breakfast burgers and just talking, bumping each other in the sidewalk and watching people stare back as them as he lights his cigarette and blows the smoke in the air. They find random benches and sit by the fountains; he brings up the possibility of a plastinated human sculpture under the hologram, she merely shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Sometimes she asks him things that normally she wouldn’t ask– like Sasayama, or growing up without a father. Sometimes he asks her about her grandmother, or how she felt about Makishima. Sometimes they didn’t talk at all.

She closed her eyes and yawned, leaning on his shoulder and trying to erase the image of the boy running around the fountain with his dog. He held her hand, thumb rubbing circles on her skin while he planted a kiss on her forehead. 

“Do you want kids?” he asked, low as a whisper.

She opened her eyes, slowly, hoping the young boy wasn’t there when she did. He was, still by the fountain and petting his dog; only then did she notice the mother watching, also sitting at the park bench on the other side of the fountain. She looked up to see her husband staring at her, searching.

“I don’t know,” was her honest reply. “Do you?”

The corners of his lips curled into a smile and she had to dodge his finger trying to press her nose. She already knew his answer, with the way he had looked at her, and at the young boy. At her the creases on the corners of his eyes softened, his pupils dilated and his gaze warm; to very few was he able to show such emotion, such weakness, as he called it– because he loved her and he admitted it. At the young boy, however, he looked at with longing, and she knew this because she recognized it as the way she used to look at him.

She stood from the bench and took his hand, leading him as they walked back to their home. He hadn’t spoken a word, nor explained his silence, but he didn’t need to, and by not needing to meant she understood him anyway. The streets somehow felt deserted, and she could not help but imagine how different things would be, how strange and beautiful, if the shadows on the pavement were not of just two, but three.

Leaning in, she smelled his cigarette in his jacket as he pulled her close. He looked down and kissed her forehead; his way of telling her it’s nothing, or don’t worry about it. She kissed whatever part of him she could reach– an awkward peck on the line of his jaw that made him smile at her trying. He stopped in his tracks to kiss her properly, just once, and walked on as they were. Hands entwined, his thumb rubbing circles on her skin like always, and before they stepped inside the elevator she promised him she’d think about it, even though she already was.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to laugh that I managed to find one explicit drabble among the whole lot... Why, I wonder, did I only manage to save one. I don't think this warrants a change in the overall rating of the fic, please skip this if it's not your cup of tea.

Eyes shut, chest rising and falling, carrying the weight of a certain someone giggling on his neck while trying to catch her breath at the same time; his head was enclosed in her arms, caged in softness and the sweet scent of her sweat. He hardly had the energy to pull the covers over them, let alone respond to her teasing kisses on the side of his lips; his arms wound tenderly around her and he waited till she exhausted herself.

“M… more,” she hummed, lifting her face to level with his and smiling when he opened his eyes.

Dizzy, but in a good way, he opened his mouth to decline and her protest was to grind her hips deliciously over him, making his head fall back to the mattress.

“You’re going to kill me–” he chuckled, drawing breath. Sometimes he wished she wasn’t that much younger and stronger.

Smiling, she lowered her head to the side of his cheek to whisper velvety tones in his ear while her hips continued their slow grind.

“I’ll make you cum.”

“But you always do,” he replied in a skeptical tone.

“Exactly,” she giggled above him, pausing her tease. “You will die a very satisfied man.”

“Not hard yet–”

“That’s because you’re old,” she laughed– too loud for her own good and the next second he had locked his hold and used his free hand to tickle her till she was screaming with laughter.

Equally amused, he lifted his head to capture her lips in between their fits, slowly drawing her body up and using his arms to keep her steady.

“You are insatiable,” he smirked, avoiding her lips trying to kiss him.

“You are a cheater,” she accused, parting her legs wider above him. They both knew who the real cheater was, but obviously they had begun wanting something other than delaying the inevitable at this point. Her sultry voice was hot in his ears as she started her slow grind again, making sure their hips connected right where she wanted him to be.

Her eyes held a silent confidence in him that was both endearing and sexy. She did not apologize in the bedroom, and every emotion she felt she gave with passion and intensity that constantly leaves him breathless and wanting more. Her ways were ruthless and unforgiving, but he was spoiled all the same. He should have known his own measures were doomed to fail; having her lie atop him was a disadvantage to begin with. Besides, deep down he didn’t really want to learn how to resist her.

“Make love to me again, old man.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bit miffed that I can't remember the title of this one... I think this, apart from Runaways, is one of my favorites

“I’m going to smell like a girl,” he announced, standing by the tub filled with bubbles and pinkish water. It was almost filled to the brim when she stepped in; he could tell the water would overflow if he joined her.

“Well, yeah. You’re going to smell like  _ me _ .” She took off her bra, throwing it at his face before sitting down, patting the water as if it were solid. “Come on, we hardly use the bath anyway. Let’s just enjoy it.”

He undressed reluctantly, watching her soak herself and scoop the bubbles in her hands; eyeing him the next moment as if to say  _ you’re taking too long _ . She offered her hand as soon as his underwear was off, making him sit behind her as he watched the water spill over the tub. Akane merely shrugged it off, sitting between his legs and taking his arms to wrap around her.

“I should’ve known you were going to make me a couch,” he muttered, pretending not to like it.

Using his pointer finger, she pressed against her lips, hushing before pressing her back against his chest.

“So we’re just gonna sit here and do nothing,” he slid down slightly so that she could recline better. Catching on fast enough, her body merely melded unto his and she turned her head to plant a soft kiss on his arm. It didn’t look like she was going to talk about anything, which had been their usual routine. Getting over the peculiarity quickly, he cradles her in his arms, peeking on the side of her head to see her damp eyelashes stick to her skin. She had rested her hands above his, placing them over her stomach, fingers tracing the ring he wore and breathing deeply.

“You’re quiet,” he observed, trying to look for a change in reaction. Her fingers gripped his, only slightly, but it was enough of an answer. “Is there something wrong?”

Shaking her head, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “You’re noisy.”

“It’s because you’re quiet! Isn’t it supposed to be me who’s the silent one?” he leaned forward, turning her in his arms. She stubbornly kept her eyes closed, lips pursed as if she was trying to hold in a giggle. 

“So tell me…” she opened her eyes, slowly. “How does it feel like being the only one doing the talking?” 

“Hey, I talk to you when you talk to me. I just don’t always start the conversation,” he objected, half-smiling.

“Ok, then. Why not talk to me for a change?” She faced forward once more, using her weight to push his back to the tub. “Tell me… about your childhood.”

Taken aback, he wondered if she chose the bath so that he didn’t have to look at her while he talked. Then again she could have easily sat on the other end of the tub to face him and maybe she really just wanted to make him a couch. “Which part? I was a child for many years.”

She snorted, feeling him steer the conversation away from where she wanted it. “You don’t say. I mean, in general. And don’t tell me it was  _ just _ fun.”

“Well, what else should I tell you? Because it really was.” He was teasing now, kissing the shell of her ear. “Fun, I mean.”

“Ok but, did you ever feel…”

She did not need to finish for him to know what the question was. “No. I wasn’t lonely.”

“Bitter? Angry?”

“No.”

“No hard feelings?”

“None at all.”

She considered for a moment, keeping her fingers twined with his under the water. “Do you think you could’ve been a different person if you grew up with him around?”

“I might have been. I can’t say.”

“Do you think you could have been a better person?”

“Ouch,” he chuckled, immediately noticing she wasn’t laughing with him. “I could have been worse. I could have been anything, Akane. Are you not satisfied with me for some reason?” He joked, hugging her tight and kissing her shoulder.

“I’m pregnant.”

He wasn’t sure if it was just the echo of his laughter that still rang in his ears, or if he was laughing when he asked her to say it again, or if she had scooped some water over his head because his vision was suddenly blurry. She didn’t turn around—he wouldn’t let her. He locked his arms and stilled, suddenly aware where his hands rested.

“I’m…” he felt the firm grip on his fingers loosen bit by bit—“pregnant?”

“Okay,” he choked, catching her hands in the water and putting in back over his, just above her stomach where they lay moments before. “That’s good.”

At that point he was sure she couldn’t have scooped water over his head because he was holding her. “That’s… really good.”

“Really?” She was smiling now, he could hear it in her voice.

“Yeah, just… don’t turn around yet.” His cheeks were very, very wet.

“Four weeks! Smaller than a pea!” she laughed, feeling the palm of his hands skim the surface of her still-flat belly.

He seemed to have forgotten that the tub was in front the shower and that she could still see his reflection on the clear glass. At the very least, she could look back and remember his face, smiling and crying, and thinking she couldn’t see. It was probably one of the best feelings in the world, though with him she would argue everything was the best. 

“Can I kiss you?”

“No,” he swallowed, burying his face on the crook of her neck. “Later. I will kiss you later.”

She was already looking forward to it.


	6. Chapter 6

_ Careful. _

He says it inside his head; he says it out loud just as much, spilling from his lips like he was nagging, at the same time thinking there was no need to keep saying it and yet he does — it was annoying. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself and could he please not worry too much. He thought just that and so did she with a knowing glance in his direction, telling him without words:  _ I am. _ He believes her, even when he ends up opening the door, pulling out a chair, holding out his hand — following her around…

I’ll do it…

let  _ me _ do it…

Alright,  _ you  _ do it (but be careful).

He whispers the words and wants to punch himself at the same time. Where was that part where he would take a separate direction and leave her without any doubt that they would meet again in a few, safe and sound? He trusted her. Of course he did.

He just wished he would shut up for once and actually show it.

A soft sigh broke his musings as a swirl of smoke from the tip of his cigarette drifted in his line of vision, outside where a few minutes ago he had been, discarding the half-burnt stick at the slightest shift of the woman in his bed. Quiet, but swift in his approach, he returned to his place beside her, a hard gaze already scanning her form.

It was nothing unusual, he concluded; he had gotten used to the silly little sounds she makes in the middle of the night, often being the first to jerk awake. Not that he had ever been the deepest sleeper, but these days he was especially sensitive; each movement enough to snap him into consciousness, his attention immediately focusing on her.

He wasn’t exactly helping. Sure, he was awake and all…

If she rolls to her side he could hold her and pull up the blanket to keep her warm; if she wakes he would ask if she needed something, like a glass of water to drink, or was she hungry and did she want him to fix some food — he could hardly believe all this was good for anything, not when her brows would furrow and lips form into a frown; her sighs would transform into an audible groan, or whine, depending on how she had managed to lift herself even just a little off the mattress when she turns.

His fingers would pull the fabric back over the expanse of her growing belly when it rose while she shifted, or give her other arm a rub or squeeze when it fell asleep. He would listen to her moan in discomfort as she tries to stretch her legs with closed eyes, takes a deep breath and whimpers a little. He looks at how her small form is a contrast to the stomach no longer just a bump that he could ignore in the middle of the night to pull her close and cuddle. And how it was before when he could so easily unload a weight from her hands, be it a bag of groceries or a gun. She was carrying a baby he couldn’t hold so that she could rest easy, nor could he think of ways to at least keep her comfortable. Useless was a good way to put it, certainly it described perfectly how he felt often.

_ Careful… _

He thought once more as she turned her head to one side a little too violently; his palm catches her face and he answers with a slow caress with the back of his hand. She lets out a deep sigh and he thinks he could keep doing this; thinks he could watch over his wife and listen to her breathing as she unconsciously rests one hand over the swell of her stomach while the other twines her fingers in his…

She should be careful, but he will keep watch nonetheless.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next three chapters are all related to each other (nervous sweats) I may or may not have made a mistake in giving the title "Three" to the wrong fic (already posted here) - my memory is hazy but these next three chapters were what I had in mind for a season three plot hence that title.

Her voice was calm, monotonous, almost uninterested as she explained the reason why she had to disturb his day off; apologizing with a quiet voice, both hands tight on the steering wheel. He replied in a warmer tone, if only to crack her iced demeanor. This wasn’t particularly abnormal. Rather, like how it is with regular affairs in the matter of work, Akane Tsunemori was professional as ever; her face masked in stoic confidence, her eyes devoid of all expression. You could count on her, as the country’s highest order does; as anyone else does, really.

It had been a good while since they last spoke about him. One could hardly expect much; it wasn’t like there was plenty to talk about. And even though she had never confirmed it he knew with utmost certainty: they both skirted around the issue. Nobody talks about him anymore. Not even them.

Still he was sure, just like he had always known, that she would talk, and all he had to do was ask. People don’t get that much from her. She allows people in, that much was true, but at the same time you never really feel like she had opened a door. There are some things that people just can’t touch. He knows this. Even the people closest to her, like Shion, also knows this.

It’s like a private circle consisting of two; no one gets in, and the funniest part of all was that neither seemed to be aware of the existence of it. Oh, everyone can talk, and assume, and think as much as they liked. Akane Tsunemori had become another, no, a  _ better  _ version of Shinya Kogami, and yet the talk does not reach her ears, much like how she thinks of him does not reach anyone’s. They were a unit; an untouchable one, so much so that she had likely replaced the role of any person in Kogami’s life by matter of importance.

This is Nobuchika Ginoza’s assumption. One he firmly believes is true.

They had just passed the city’s borders, the road changing from congested to almost deserted as they take on a route never been. The closest border gate was fifteen minutes away. They had time, but he could tell by the speed they went she didn’t want to waste any; her eyes locked forward and it had become almost painful to watch. There were limits to his sympathy and he realized as of late that he had the most room for her. Maybe, in the years that he had spent from being her colleague to subordinate, he had begun to consider himself a friend. Perhaps never the kind who she could talk about a lot of things — he wasn’t a man of many words after all. Add to that his interests remained very singular, if not for someone’s mutual interest he could never convince somebody to take up the hobbies he had loved since he was a young boy, nor could he try to like the things others are interested in. Neither was he the kind of friend who would be her shoulder to cry on. His feelings were as deep as a children’s pool; emotions had always been that hard for him to understand. He was a man of little life experience ridden with trauma; an incomplete, distorted world view and sometimes selfish, even bratty behavior for a thirty-three year old.

And in the middle of it all he tries, and doesn’t succeed much when words spill from his mouth sounding the opposite of what he means. He could never be like other people, and sometimes the realization has to come after the fact that his attempts were futile, much like it was a couple of years ago when he tried to remind her that she didn’t need someone like Shinya Kogami in her life.

If anything it had become more obvious over the years. He was like a wine stain on her favorite dress. No longer wearing it but still kept in her closet where only she gets to see it, and only she gets to remember what the equivalent of short months, a night, or even hours, meant to them both.

"What happens next?"

He did not miss the breath catch in her throat. It was too quiet inside the car after all.

"I told you didn’t I? We take him into custody. He will undergo pre-employment investigation and testing. He should be fit to work so I’m not expecting a lot of time to be devoted on that."

There was a smile in her voice, albeit reluctant; as if all of this, or at least him being fit to work was something expected. “His psycho pass?”

"Above regulation value. Latent criminal, as he was before."

"You’re afraid." He said it without thinking, and he managed to get a chuckle out of her. It wasn’t that her laugh wasn’t genuine, rather that she probably found it funny this time; that he was right about how she feels, unlike all the other times when he was far from it.

"I am," she spoke, letting out an audible sigh. This was his chance, while they were a bit of the way from their destination. He would like to take advantage of this vulnerability, because he never sees it much, and also because he was certain only Kogami sees it. At least when it came to her own fears he wanted in.

"Why?"

At first he thought she wasn’t going to reply, but she pressed the button for autodrive and tugged the lever beneath her seat so that she could pull away from the steering wheel and crossed her arms, eyes still looking on the road ahead.

"The Chief is interested in his Psycho Pass, and would like to… keep him under their watch. I don’t deny that his scans as of late are far too peculiar, especially for someone who had killed more than one man."

He did not answer. The weariness in her voice was evident; she blames herself for this, and this was one of the few times he could remember anger brewing in his heart. It was foolish to say things like  _ no, it’s not your fault  _ , because like the man she takes so much after, it was useless and she would not listen. Besides, he would probably end up saying something along the lines of  _ Kogami chose his fate _ which was not what she needs to hear.

"Now they’re bringing him in, and they want him back. We’re short on manpower, I can understand that. There just aren’t that many people cut out to be detectives like us."

This time it was his turn to laugh, though it was short-lived. He was the furthest from being a detective. Right now he felt more like her bodyguard. He wanted to be, at least protect her physically when it was the only thing he could do.

"He will prove to be useful, don’t you think so?"

"I think that’s all they want to do," her voice dropped to a whisper and she tore her eyes off the road to look at him. There was fear there, if only a shadow, but she blinked once and it went as swiftly as it came.

"I don’t even understand why he decided to surrender. He, who says those under Sibyl are but mere sheep. What’s he doing back in the farm, then?" Her voice was stern, he could tell she was trying to quell her anger the way her hands balled into fists on her lap.

"You seem like you will have plenty of questions lined up for him," was his small-talk of a response. The more she spoke of him the more he realized why no one was allowed in that circle of theirs. They were always about the bigger things. He doesn’t understand, maybe he never will.

"What more is he expecting to do?" She was pleading, brows furrowed and lips shaking; the shadows hide the lines on her face— the person she was pleading to would never hear, at least not right now.

"They could so easily dispose of him if he is here." She turned her head away and for the first time he felt accomplished somehow, when her reflection on the window looked back with tears in her eyes.

"You underestimate him."

"No. I’m just afraid." She leaned back on the seat, tilting her head and blinking back the tears that didn’t fall. She took a deep breath, pulling her chair forward before wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. She pressed the button, holding the steering wheel with both hands and taking control of the vehicle.

"Between you and I, it’s obvious that you’re the one who knows most what he is capable of. If you trust that the system will betray him, then maybe you should trust in him more because you know him better than the system."

She laughed, surprisingly genuine this time. “Says the man who called Kogami-san nothing but a fugitive… or a criminal. What was it that you said? I forget.”

"So have I. You’re very quick to recover. I was waiting for you to bawl your eyes out."

He glanced sideways, catching the smile on her lips just mere moments before she spoke. “Let’s just say I was made stronger by the words of a man who, like me, still knew how to trust Shinya Kogami. The fugitive, the criminal, the rebel… the reluctant leader who protects the people, and fights for justice no matter where he went.”

He could feel her glance upon him once as he could only nod in agreement.

"You really are his friend, still."

He paused, realizing at that moment that she was right about how he felt about him, despite everything. “Just like you are his lover, still.”

"Well, I’m not sure that’s what you should call me…"

It was funny because he wondered at this point whether Akane would be capable of falling for another, but at the same time he remembered how his then beaten and bruised friend revered her with just a simple look in his eyes; a warmth he could not hide at the mention of her name and he wondered how much, or how little, the two really understood each other in matters of the heart.

"Well then, what would you call someone who’s been hung up on a man for years?"

"A fool," she answered too quickly as the sun set over the horizon, darkness falling like a curtain that followed over the deep orange sky.

_ Fools indeed _ , though he didn’t need to speak out loud.


	8. Chapter 8

“Inspector.”

His words, his acknowledgment with that familiar hoarse tone, eyes dark and lips dried by the merciless heat of the sun in a land far away, his hair stuck up and disheveled; no amount of time in this city could have given him that look. The color of his skin had darkened a shade, his chest that much broader– he seemed bigger, or rather, tougher, than when she last saw him.

“You don’t have to call me that,” she reminded him quietly.

They sat across each other in the interrogation room, in silence like they had been a few hours ago when she had cuffed him, speaking words mechanically and not looking in his eyes out of fear for her own emotions breaking down. Akane knew how tough she could be, how little emotion was required in their line of work, but she often failed when it came to him. Everybody knew it, and she assumed the man who sat still, looking straight into her eyes, knew just as well.

He lifted his wrists off the table, assisting her in taking off the same cuffs she had put on him. Now that they were alone her fingers shook, no longer the automatic and unfeeling; she couldn’t seem to hide now even if she tried.

The cuffs stayed on the side and for the life of her she didn’t know where to start. She did not come prepared. Never had she imagined she would be, even if she had the guts to say in a phone conversation that she believed they would meet again, as ordinary people. Bitterly, she thought that would have been ten times better. Not like this. Never like this.

This was a small room, locked and monitored; every word heard and every movement observed. This, was not a conversation between just the two of them; this included her co-workers, inspectors and enforcers alike– this included Sibyl. Like a monster breathing at the back of her neck, she remembers clearly why she did not want him in the first place. Not here, anyway.

He, on the other hand, looked stoic; comfortable, even. Her curiosity got the better of her and she had to ask. His reply was simple: he was home. Rather than questioning with the use of words, she could not bring herself to say she could tell he was lying. Beyond his expressionless and calm face, there was a coldness in his eyes; a passive anger that she could read. She did not know how she knew it, only that she did not doubt it’s true. Her fears do not usually get the better of her, but when it comes to him she is either forced to think, almost too much outside of the box, of a way to stop him. That one time she failed will always be a reminder to her. He is a force of nature, and he will do what he will, if that’s what he believed is right.

In a way she could tell that even though she knew him that much, still there were times when she had to ask, because the answers always needed to come from him. Maybe she needed to be reassured somehow, that she did not have some skewed mental image of Shinya Kogami in her mind. That he was not an angel incapable of doing wrong. What he thought of her she simply did not know at this point, only that she believed he knew which side she was really on: the side of the law.

They sat in silence for a couple more minutes, both her hands resting on the table when he surprised her by extending his, resting on the spaces between. This forced her to look down, to stare at how close he was now to touching her, and how his head was not so distant as it was moments ago.

“You are to undergo some tests, just to get clearance that you’re fit to work,” she managed to say the exact same words she had spoken when they arrested him at the border gates, for want of something to say, or do; anything to relieve her from thinking entirely about him.

His fingers remained still, putting her in an awkward position of speaking with her head down, battling with herself on whether she should lean back and stay away from his space. She never imagined he’d be physically imposing, almost intimidating, but in her mind she had begun to accept that in the time they had spent apart he may have changed– that or there was a point he was trying to make.

He nodded in understanding, making no other move to speak further. Normally she would be worried, or confused. For some reason, she was beginning to feel calm, simply because he was there.

On her own she relied on no one. There were plenty of things she could do herself. She was a formidable opponent, with or without weapons. With him around, and as much as she hated it, she let her guard down unknowingly, and often she would catch herself too late; like right now, when her fingers twined naturally with his.

She wasn’t big with words, either. Sometimes she would like to give him a hard punch, while in other times she would like to do other things… things she scarely allowed herself to imagine; things that now suddenly felt so reachable, so possible, now that he was here.

She had resolved to never expect him to come back again, and that moment coming would require her to be stronger. Time and again he had proven her wrong, remained true to his own truth, and she was left with that much of a disappointment to herself– for thinking wrong, and for doubting him even the slightest; because time had never really changed him, only circumstance. It was hard to believe that in a few more hours he was going to stand with her, and on the same side. Her fears did not change, she was still as afraid now as she was when she spoke to Ginoza. She will probably always be afraid.

… but she had a penchant for trusting him, far too much.

“Why did you come back here?” She finally asked, gripping him all the tighter. If her senses weren’t lying, she swore she could feel his pulse, pumping blood and flowing with the touch of their hands. She could feel him, and he wasn’t such a distant memory anymore.

He chuckled, and while it did not surprise her, seeing his amusement made it very hard not to feel the same. She was always going to bombard him with silly and childish questions; most of which she, deep-down in her heart, already knew the answer.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

There were lines on the sides of his mouth, and there were faint creases on his forehead and around his eyes. He was looking at her warmly, and all the coldness, the harsh darkness was gone. She tells herself she could be good for him, and that if she could keep him and fight for the justice they both believe in, things were going to be okay. His thumb traced circles on the back of her hand; her first thought was that she wanted, needed to be touched.

Maybe when she smiled at him, she understood she was trading his freedom and his safety for selfish reasons. His eyes told her she wasn’t entirely the only one. She wasn’t the only one crazy, utterly, and madly in love. She wasn’t the only one not quite ready to admit something that, probably, by some strange twist of fate, they already both know.

“Not really,” she replied. In the back of her mind she was begging him to say it.

He never did. She never expected him to. But they walked out of that room, hand in hand, and left the handcuffs on the table, and she knew he never had to.


	9. Chapter 9

The balcony was empty save for the two of them; him with a cigarette in his mouth, standing with one hand in pocket, her leaning on the rails looking down below with a cheerful expression on her face. They had just left Chief Kasei’s office after discussing the terms of his sentence: minimum time for the murder of Shogo Makishima, all thanks to his clear Psycho Pass.

He had reservations about his own safety in the Detention Center, well aware that he wasn’t exactly Sybil’s cup of tea from the moment he killed their favorite Makishima. It was obvious Akane could tell, and unlike him she was optimistic as always, her eyes showing absolutely no doubt that he will be fine. Three months isn’t a long time at all; for someone who had been on the run for a good four years it sounded like a fair trade.

Far better than that, time had finally slowed to a relaxing pace. He liked that he could take a long drag from his cigarette with less thoughts in his mind; liked that he was back in the city and in a place he never thought he’d set foot in again. He liked that he was standing next to Akane and was somehow a different version of himself; neither Enforcer or Fugutive, only Shinya Kogami.

It was an excuse, definitely, to make him believe her words when he had called her that day thinking he will never speak to her again. In fact, his own mind told him, when he turned his gaze at her, that she was not an Inspector. Rather, that she was a woman he knew and did not know at the same time, and that he would paint her as the woman he had always wanted to meet. She had a face and a name, and at that moment it was all that mattered.

She noticed him staring and she turned to face him, arms leaning on the rail. “Three months is nothing,” was her confident remark. “After that you’re free to do what you like.”

“You’ve always been able to do what you like. What would you suggest I do?”

“You know that’s not entirely true.” Akane paused for a moment, brows furrowed at his query. “Well… maybe you want to take up another profession? Or a hobby?”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips and he bit down on the stick in his mouth to keep it there. “Sounds interesting. If you weren’t an Inspector what would you have liked to do, I wonder?”

“Well, that’s a bit hard to think about now, isn’t it?” She smiled bitterly. “I might have done something else, surely. But never for one moment did I believe that I made a wrong choice joining the MWPSB.”

He was about to open his mouth when she beat her to it, eyes lighting up while she talked.

“Besides, my whole life doesn’t completely revolve around my work. I still see my friend and we still talk. Sometimes we happily remember Yuki and I have long realized that like me, she lived too… Also, I have time to rest in the weekends, I can go where I want to when I want, and at the end of the day I’m very grateful that I can still choose. And after three months, you will, too.”

"You think?”

She nodded, smiling. “I have hope that you’re not a special case. I have hope that we’re not as rare as they have come to think.”

“What else do you hope for?” He left her for a moment, walking to the nearest trash can to discard his cigarette. He came back and her expression changed into a more serious one.

“I… I hope you will find something to be passionate about. If you can’t work for the MWPSB anymore there might be other things you want to do.”

“You talk like Sybil doesn’t have a say when I leave the Detention Center. But I agree. I have things I’m passionate about and things I want to do, things I like…”

“Things that make you happy!”

“Ah,” he agreed, standing in front of her. “What about you, what makes you happy?”

She blinked, surprised by the sudden question. It didn’t take much to collect her wits, as expected. “A good breakfast… a long walk without calls from the office,” she giggled. “Good food with great company, new things to learn and problem solving, a good night’s sleep? Oh, and calls…”

“Calls?”

“Unexpected ones. And you?”

Smirking, he shrugged his shoulders. “Cigarettes.”

She laughed out loud. “Of course.”

“And you.”

Her abrupt pause wasn’t exactly expected on his part; though that was probably his fault for not always making himself clear. He closed the gap between them, leaning over, hands grasping the railing on either side of her.

His face was close enough that he could clearly see her pupils dilate, eyelashes flutter with every involuntary blink, cheeks flush a deep crimson. He could feel the heat of her breath fan the surface of his lips, both innocent and tempting. She was small but not weak, she was strong but not invincible, and he wanted all of her.

“If I could stay so that I can be included in the list that makes you happy, would you allow it?”

Akane brought both hands to his face, startling him. “I would like that,” she said, simply, a smile tugged at the edge of her lips and she looked at him with a softened gaze.

He caught her lips in a slow kiss, eyes closed, hands abandoning the railing in exchange for drawing her closer to his embrace. The softness of her lips and movement in time with his, each exhale drawn out of their noses a contrast to the cool wind blowing around them. His heart ached knowing he would need to exercise patience and not have this as much as he wanted, but when he let her go and saw his reflection in her eyes he resolved that indeed good things come to those who wait.

And for her, he was more than willing.


End file.
